


Historical Accuracy

by CaptainLyssa



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLyssa/pseuds/CaptainLyssa
Summary: A crossover where Lt. Tom Paris enters a holographic representation of NX-01 Enterprise. Only things are never that simple in the Star Trek universe. Oh, and I’ve played with the Paris family timeline a little, to fit in with my plot. Most of the information comes from Memory Beta.
Relationships: Jonathan Archer & Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

“Lt. Tom Paris reporting for duty,” one blue eyed blond told another.

“Glad to have you aboard,” the Commander offered with a slightly confused expression. “Charles Tucker, Chief Engineer, but most people call me Trip.”

Holding out a hand in greeting, the junior officer stepped off the transporter platform and accepted the welcome with a firm grip. Gold piping on his jumpsuit stated he was either a pilot or in the command stream. An _Enterprise_ patch on his shoulder confirmed Lt. Paris now belonged to their crew. Not sure what position the younger man would play as their compliment had recently been replenished, Trip hadn’t been expecting a new officer to appear on the pad as he worked on a blown regulator.

“I’ve been looking forward to exploring _Enterprise_ ,” Tom smiled, his crystal-clear orbs darting around every part of the room. This holographic projection from _Voyager’s_ archives appeared to be very realistic and incredibly detailed. He’d barely had to tinker with the program to insert himself as a major character.

“Well,” the Southerner drawled, “let’s get you to the bridge and introduce you to Captain Archer. I’m sure he’ll get you settled into your quarters and position in no time.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Paris responded, playing his part.

“Where you from?” Trip questioned as they moved towards the turbolift. He noticed Lt. Paris watching his every action, as if trying to memorise all the little details. Tucker became suspicious, especially with the man’s surname. He’d have to get the Captain and T’Pol alone to discuss his reservations.

“Grew up in San Francisco,” Tom answered easily.

When his response was greeted with an expression of doubt Paris knew too well, he wondered at the identity of the holoprogramer. It seemed they’d captured the personalities of the crew aboard the first Human starship to explore the galaxy convincingly. Glad he’d decided to spend valuable replicator rations on this uniform, Tom knew he’d enjoy flying this vessel, but not the obvious suspicion at his sudden and unexpected insertion into the tight knit crew.

“What,” Paris asked, observing that buttons needed to be pushed to call the turbolift, “you haven’t heard of the famous Paris’s. Bailey and McKenzie Paris started in the UESPA, becoming some of the first Starfleet officers.”

_I’m glad I did that research into my early family tree when I found this program_ , Tom sighed internally. _Nothing like keeping historical accuracy, especially if I decide to revisit this simulation in the future._

“I wondered if you belonged to **_that_** Paris clan,” Trip’s tone turned sour. _So, that’s how he managed to get aboard. Nepotism. Figures with such a well-connected family. I’ll have to warn the Captain and get Malcolm to keep an eye on this one. Probably expects all the kudos of serving on Enterprise without doing any of the work._

Stepping into the lift, Paris turned his gaze on the Commander. Tom tried for the friendly approach while feeling the waves of resentment. “I graduated Starfleet academy and earned my commission, Commander, in spite of my family name.” _With a few detours along the way. Why and I justifying myself to a hologram?_ The Lieutenant wondered.

_Because,_ his alter ego added _, this simulation is so real it’s as if you’ve been transported back in time._

Rising an eyebrow, Trip carefully looked the man over. He was maybe twenty-five, his posture regulation. In fact, Tucker could see the generations of military breeding in the way he held himself. There were some startling similarities to Lt. Reed in that respect. Yet, something just didn’t add up here. It was if he was examining _Enterprise_ with a fine-tooth comb, looking for issues. _Maybe something to report back to his family_ , Tucker considered.

Deposited on the bridge, the Commander and Captain shared a momentary glance. Neither had been expecting an addition to their crew. Their nine-year friendship aiding with instant understanding. Glancing at the viewscreen, Earth hung in the inky sky. The distance to far for their transporter, Tucker wondered where Paris’s transport originated.

“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant,” Archer greeted. “Admiral Argonne Paris sent your personnel file and new orders a few minutes ago. I wasn’t expecting another crew member, as we took on our compliment while at Orbital.”

“I understand this was sudden, Captain,” Tom gave a sigh of relief internally. It seemed his tinkering with the program had worked better than expected. He’d forgotten about the first female Admiral in the family tree. Obviously, the computer made the connection and extrapolated a way to get him onto _Enterprise_ without any issues. Tom knew he’d be able to fit seamlessly into this crew with the back story, but not his name. Well, at least for the next forty minutes. Then his holodeck time would be up, until the next time he entered the program.

“ _Intrepid’s_ moved off,” Reed reported from his station.

Captain Jonathon Archer gave his usual smirk for a job well done. It was more for Trip’s benefit, than Malcolm. He knew the moment the Commander understood the veiled hint. He had no idea why this officer had come aboard either. Trip and T’Pol, after a year, could read their commanding officer’s subtle expressions. The Captain was not happy. He didn’t want or need Paris. It took Tucker a few moments to work out why. When he did, his mouth dropped.

“Didn’t you date Caroline Paris?” he blurted out, sorry his mouth got him into trouble once again.

“Yes, yes, I did,” Jon answered begrudgingly. Turning towards Tom, he asked, “How is your….”

“Aunt,” Tom swallowed, making it up as he went along. He hadn’t expected this, but hoped the computer would incorporate his idea into the scenario. The history vids didn’t mention a relationship between his ancestor and Jon Archer. Although, there had been a note in Captain Caroline Paris’ personal log about a man she’d lived with and given up for her career. Tom’s ancestress always regrated the decision.

“So, your James’ son?” When the Lieutenant before him swallowed, Archer smiled. It was not a happy expression, more put upon to be babysitting such a prominent officer with big shoes to fill. “So, James Jr, you prefer to use your middle name.” _To disguise your true identity_ , the words were left unspoken.

“Aye, Sir,” Tom knew he was in way over his head. At this point he thought about calling for the arch and ending the simulation. Not sure what stopped him, Paris watched as the Vulcan moved from a station to stand beside the Captain. Unlike Tuvok, she spoke volumes with her expressive eyes while her face remained impassive. She handed Archer a thick PADD without a word.

“Sir,” Hoshi called, “I have Commander Paris on the com.”

“Put her through,” Jon sighed, returning to his chair. “You’re with me. Lieutenant.”

When the image appeared, Tom couldn’t help his nervousness. On the screen, an image of a woman in her mid-forties appeared. Slight discolouration at her temples, the blonde hair and blue eyes a match for his own. The familiar resemblance was uncanny.

“Jon,” she nodded at the Captain, before narrowing her gaze to the man beside him. “I heard my nephew was being transferred to your command. You’ve changed a little since I last saw you, Tom.”

Deciding discretion was the better part of valour, Tom Paris kept his mouth shut. Acknowledging his ‘Aunt’ with a precise nod, he felt that was all that was needed. He could feel the Vulcan First Officer’s gaze and the Chief Engineer’s glare as they scrutinised the interaction. The way the officer with red piping at his shoulders narrowed his eyelids didn’t appear too welcoming either. It seemed the Paris name carried the same distinction, even in the twenty second century.

“It’s been a long time, Caroline,” Jon offered easily, although his body hummed with unease.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Before the NX program really got off the ground.”

“A lot of water under the bridge since then,” Archer managed to quash the suddenly intense feeling of regret.

“I miss those days,” she offered with a sad smile, as if she’d read his mind. “They were uncomplicated.”

“Yes,” Jon agreed, a melancholic note in his tone, “they were. A simpler time.”

“I won’t trust anyone else to look after him, Jon,” the Commander proclaimed, her blue eyes making promises for the future.

“I wouldn’t do anything less,” Archer responded easily, his eyes beginning to twinkle. “For any of my crew. Let the Admiral know her grandson will return from our mission.”

Signalling to Hoshi, the communication was cut. “It looks like you have friends in high places,” the Captain stated quietly, mixed emotions playing in the back of his orbs.

“It’s easy,” Tom looked at his feet, responding barely above a whisper, “to change your first name, Sir. It still doesn’t allow you to escape the reputation or pedigree of your last. Sometimes the expectations are…impossibly high. I know Aunt Caroline felt that way. Especially when the family demanded she to take the promotion in New Berlin.”

“Family, hey,” Jon asked, hanging on the younger man’s response.

Looking up, Tom gave his grin that got him out of trouble more times than not, especially with Captain Janeway. “I think she wanted her own family, in San Francisco,” Paris stated carefully, modulating his voice so only Archer heard him. “Admirals as parents, that’s not an easy childhood to survive. Trust me, I know.”

Analysing the Lieutenant, Archer nodded once, very determinedly. Tom Paris appeared to be completely truthful. Wondering at the history behind those words, the Captain realised he’d have at least a year to find out. _And a year to ask about Caroline_ , his subconscious added.

“Lt. Reed,” Archer ordered, “show Mr. Paris to his quarters. There’s a spare cabin next to Trip’s. After a tour, you can take your evening meal in the Captain’s mess so the senior officers can get to know you. Trip, collect Lt. Paris at 1900. Your duty shifts will commence tomorrow. You’ll be taking the lead on Beta, until further noticed. T’Pol, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my ready room. Dismissed.”

Trip knew he should get back to engineering, but something in all this just didn’t feel right. Following Jon, he managed to get through the door before it closed. Seating himself, Tucker waited for the Captain to acknowledge him.

“I was twenty-four the first time I asked a woman to marry me,” he stated forlornly. Staring out his window, a low, sad chuckle escaped. “Margaret Mullin, I met her while at Stanford. The night before I graduated flight school she turned me down. She didn’t want to be a Starfleet widow. The second woman…”

“Caroline Paris,” Trip offered into the lengthening silence. In all the years they’d know each other, neither had relationships that lasted. Their friendship had carried them through a series of one-night stands and brief affairs. Natalie had been the exception, but then, Tucker knew she’s never hold a candle to _Enterprise_ in his affections.

“I didn’t know who she was at first and Caro liked it that way. We were both in Starfleet, getting on with our careers. I didn’t have to fear her answer. She said yes and for a few moments we were ecstatically happy,” Jon sighed before turning around. “My life was amazing. I was engaged to a woman I loved, on the team making my father’s engine a reality and then it all crashed in the space of a few hours.”

“She took the assignment in New Berlin,” Tucker summarised. “It seems Lt. Pairs filled in the rest. If that look was anything to go by, Captain, it’s not over yet.”

“We never ended it, not officially. That’s why I spent a week getting drunk every night in the 602. There was always that hope, that one day, when our careers let us, we be together again.” Shaking his head, Archer sat down at his desk heavily. “Now I have her nephew on my crew. He’s a full lieutenant in the command stream. You know what that means, Trip.”

“Yes, sir,” Tucker frowned. “I just got displaced another notch.”

“I’m not giving you or Travis a demotion. Ensign Mayweather will remain our principal pilot, so that means Paris will have to become the officer in charge on the Beta shift,” Archer grumbled. “I managed to glance at his file before you appeared on the bridge. There’s nothing there I can argue with. He’s earned his bars and might even be an asset to this crew.”

“Just the name’s going to put some noses out of joint,” Trip warned. “And, I don’t trust him, Captain. There’s something about him, the way he watches everything, his story being just a little to smooth, that has my gut wrenching.”

“When you have more than a gut feeling, Trip, come to me with it,” Jon ordered.

“You agree with me?” Tucker sounded a little shocked.

“Let just say, I never heard Caroline call her brother’s names sake ‘Tom’ before. It was always Junior,” Archer commented. “I get why you’d use a second name, but then why not take his mother’s maiden name as well. Jones wouldn’t get the same response.”

“Tom Jones,” Trip roared with laughter. “Come on, Captain, even you have to see the funny side of that. James Jones isn’t much better.”

Smirking, in spite of the seriousness of their situation, Archer finally allowed his mirth to show. “Caroline stated it was her nephew.” The significance was back in an instant. “She identified him. No, Tom Paris is who he states. I’m more concerned about why he’s on my ship.”

“I’ll talk to Malcolm,” Trip promised as he stood. “If there’s anything to find, he’ll find it.”

“Tell Reed to do it discretely,” Jon ordered. “I don’t want Lt. Paris calling home with tails about abuse.”

“Got it,” Trip responded with a mischievous smile. “I think Lt. Paris is about to get two new best buddies.”

Rolling his eyes, Jon flicked on the computer and called up Tom’s record. He had every intention of scrutinising it before dinner. Lost in the information, Archer didn’t hear his engineer leave.

Sitting in his new quarters, a stunned Tom Paris wondered if something had gone wrong with the holodeck. Almost an hour and a half had expired by the time Lt. Malcolm Reed deposited him on D deck in his new habitat. Finally, alone, he called for the arch, but it didn’t appear.

Tom had been in this simulation nearly two hours, plenty of time for someone to miss him, if it hadn’t been the middle of _Voyager’s_ night. The crew had finally started to accept him after rescuing B’Elanna Torres from the Vivian’s, that whole trans warp fiasco and pretending to be malcontent, but the nightmares from his previous life hadn’t stopped. Awake at midnight, Lt. Paris noticed several holodeck sessions open and took them to try out the NX-01 program.

Laying on a very uncomfortable bunk, Tom had tried to find the control system to no avail. The thought that this might be real and not re-sequenced photons became a possibility. After all, Voyager had come across some strange events in the Delta quadrant. It was becoming somewhat of a joke between the senior staff.

Sighing, Tom knew he’d have to play long until the Captain realised he was missing and got him out of this predicament. The room was less than a quarter the size of his cabin on _Voyager_. Replicators were non-existent, transporter technology barely functional, and the shuttle pods, so primitive, Paris had to look up the manual on a computer that didn’t accept voice commands. The sooner he got back to _Voyager_ the better.

A sound echoed though his quarters. Wondering what it was, Tom answered with a come in. Nothing happened. Sighing, he got up and pressed the little white button. _Boy I miss the computer and my com badge already_ , he thought sourly. _Not to mention a change of clothes, even if I have limited rations for the replicator. However, the water shower might prove a godsend._

“Ready,” Commander Tucker asked. When he got a blank look, Trip added, “dinner in the Captain’s private dining room.”

“Oh,” Tom’s shock entered his tone. “Sorry, it’s almost breakfast time on my last ship. And the Captain’s mess had been…. severely damaged.”

“Damaged, hay,” Trip asked conversationally, steering the younger man along the corridor to the turbolift. The hesitation was telling. “What’s the engineering crew doing about it?”

“Not a lot,” Tom responded. “Still, not my problem now.”

“I guess not,” Trip replied easily. “How was _Intrepid_? Never been on her myself.”

“Me either, but I’m guessing nothing compared to _Enterprise_ ,” Tom managed a smile. He understood the Commander’s aim. “Maybe once _Challenger’s_ built, I might get a chance at First Officer after serving here.”

“That your aim?” Tucker demanded. “To climb the ladder? Become Frist Officer?”

“No,” Tom stopped dead in his tracks, an odd expression on his face. “I just want to go home. I’m stuck in a reality that’s not mine and I hope my Captain can get me out before something else goes wrong.”

Confused, Commander Tucker knew the Lieutenant was telling the truth, as far as he knew it. _But who’s his Captain? What home is he talking about? I know he didn’t serve on Intrepid because she doesn’t have a Captain’s mess. So what ship did he transport from? What went wrong on his last posting and what does he mean, not his reality. Hell, has Daniels been playing with the timeline again. I have to tell the Captain._


	2. Chapter 2

“Is Crewman Daniel’s on duty tonight?” Trip asked, folding himself easily into his usual chair at the Captain’s Table. Tucker found the chat on the way enlightening and now had to put his theory to the test. The moment Archer heard the question, he knew the Engineer had something. Glancing quickly at his friend, hazel eyes locked with blue and a complete conversation occurred.

Tom Paris’s orbs, on the other hand, became wide with the selection and quality of the meals as they passed through the main mess. As he followed Commander Tucker through the room, he noticed three courses with at least three choices for each. Salivating at the smell of his all-time favourites, Tom found himself forced to play his part in this daram. It seemed everyone ate together on these early starships and the quality of the food only something he could dream about. On _Voyager_ there were two messes, one for enlisted and one for officers as they couldn’t all fit in such a small space. Impossible for Neelix coul to cook almost five hundred meals a day across three shifts, several others had been cross trained as cooks. However, the Talaxian held _carta blanch_ over the menu, which usually consisted of two choices, either Leola root or Pika rind in some glutinous form. Then again, with _Voyager’s_ energy stores always at a premium and Earth like produce difficult to come by in the Delta quadrant, he didn’t have much to work with.

T’Pol raised an eyebrow but refrained from commenting at Tucker’s opening gambit. The last time they encountered Temporal Agent Daniels had been several months ago. As far as _Enterprise_ was concern, they’d seen the last of the man and thankfully so.

“Davis is the steward tonight, Trip,” Jon answered easily, keeping his expression neutral. However, it gave him an idea of where the conversation should tend. Pouring the wine when Lt. Paris took his seat, Archer smiled. “So, tell us about your last ship, Tom?”

“Not much to tell,” Paris played the game. Aware something he’d said put Commander Tucker in a thoughtful mood, the Lieutenant started to reassess his options. As this simulation continued, he had to consider the possibility that might just be real, or at least some phenonium trapping him in on the holodeck.

_It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. Maybe I’m living through something like that Beewolf programme Harry ran last year, when those photonic life forms held three crew hostage._ Taking the butter knife, Tom cut his bread roll in half. Acting clumsy, Paris ran the blade across his palm. It both hurt and left a mark but wasn’t sharp enough to slice though skin. It proved the safeties on the holodeck were either not working or off.

“We certainly didn’t have the same quality fair,” Lt. Paris grinned, using his winning smile to distract the others. “I’m looking forward to dinner if the meals in the general mess are anything to go by.”

“ _Enterprise_ is known to have the best chef in the fleet,” Jon brimmed with pride. “I managed to talk him into coming with us on our mission.”

“Let me warn you, Captain,” Tom sighed, “if anyone offers you Leola root, in any form, decline. It might be nutritious and keep a crew fed, but no matter what Neelix does to it, the taste can never be disguised.”

“Leola root?” Trip questioned, sharing a glance with Jon and T’Pol. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Tom realised how difficult this might be, even in a simulation, to keep the truth hidden. _As if I didn’t learn that when we met Rayne in twentieth century LA_ , Paris concluded silently. _I thought I knew enough about this time period to bluff my way through. It took her a few hours to understand something was wrong. So, I guess I have to go back to old tricks and stick as closely to the truth, making the most convincing lies._ “We discovered it on a planet we explored. Mr. Neelix was taken with its nutritional properties.”

“I don’t recall a chef called Neelix,” Archer commented, “when I interviewed for the post.”

Calculating, Tom felt more confident with this answer. He’d learnt the current date while looking though the computer in his quarters. The sheer amount of data available on a terminal should have rung alarm bells within this holographic environment. Another piece of the puzzle slotted into place and Paris didn’t like the picture that was forming.

_This is not real_ , Tom’s mind insisted, even if every indicator proved him incorrect.

“Neelix joined our crew almost two years ago,” Paris explained. “He’s a civilian, I hate to use the word, cook, so I’m not sure you would never have been exposed to his culinary delights.”

Conversation stopped as the steward entered, placing the first course before each officer. Tom tried not to let his mouth water at the sight and smell of real Tomato soup. He guessed it had been chosen for a Vulcan pallet. The first mouthful and Paris thought he might be in love.

“T’Pol,” Trip lifted an eyebrow as the only woman in the room took her first sip.

“It is agreeable,” T’Pol stated.

“You sound like Tuvok,” Tom smiled, realising to late he’d slipped.

“Tuvok,” that eyebrow came up again. “You had a Vulcan aboard your last vessel?”

“We had three,” shaking his head, Tom Paris new he’d made a fatal mistake. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, he decided to hell with this pussy footing around. He needed to find out if he’d somehow been transported into the twenty second century. “Our nurse didn’t make it into the Delta quadrant when the displacement wave struck. Nor did the rest of the medical team.”

“What post does Tuvok hold,” T’Pol requested, her gaze and intelligent, assessing eyes focused on Paris.

“Lt. Tuvok is our Security Chief and Tactical officer. He’s also second bridge officer,” Tom stated. “Ensign Vorik is an ensign in Engineering.”

“Delta quadrant,” Archer waited for his first officer to get her question out before pouncing on the titbit that interested him. “Displacement wave. Why don’t you tell us about that, Lt. Paris?”

“It’s a long story,” Tom stood, slightly seething and no longer willing to play along. He wanted out and a few hours’ sleep before his shift started and he’d once again be at Voyager’s helm. “I’m not sure why I’m even telling holograms about the future. Computer, arch.” When the doorway didn’t appear, Paris sighed. “I wish B’Elanna or one of her people would realise there’s an issue with the holodeck and get me out of here. It’s been nice meeting you, but it’s time to get back to my reality.”

“Trip?” Jon demanded.

“That’s why I asked about Daniels,” Tucker stated. “It’s the second time Lt. Paris has mentioned getting back to his reality and his Captain.”

“Mr. Paris?” Archer turned on the young man.

Eyes wide, Tom rapidly concluded he wasn’t in holographic representation. That something had gone wrong. “Q!” he suddenly demanded. “I swear if this is your doing.”

“Who is Q?” the Captain demanded, also standing and at a loss to understand the situation spiralling out of control.

“An omnipotent being from the Q continuum where time and space mean nothing,” Tom answered. “He’s appeared on _Voyager_ before, much to Captain Janeway’s displeasure and likes to annoy humans to pass the time.”

Captain Archer stepped over to the wall and place his finger very deliberately on a white button while sharing a consprital look with Trip and T’Pol. “Archer to Daniels.”

Several seconds went by in complete silence. T’Pol and Tucker continued to watch the Lieutenant through veiled glares. Paris realised he’d given away too much and Archer observed the entire scene, trying to work out what was going on.

“Daniels here,” came the response.

“Report to my dining room, Daniels. It seems we have a guest from another reality,” Archer stated.

“Sir,” curiosity filled the voice.

“One Lt. Tom Paris,” Jon informed.

“I’ll be a moment, Sir,” he answered. “I need to stop by my cabin”

“Understood,” Jon cut the connection with a perplexed expression. It seemed Daniel’s would consult his futuristic computer before arriving. Returning to his seat, after asking Chef to hold off on dinner for half an hour, Jonathon Archer demanded, “now, let’s start with what you consider your reality, Mr. Paris.”

“Temporal prime directive,” Tom sighed, shaking his head. He had to play this as if he really were stuck in the twenty second century. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I can’t say anything more.”

“The Vulcan Science Directorate….”

“Yes, I know what you’re going to say,” Tom shook his head. “Ambassador Spock proved time travel is possible. I wish Tuvok accompanied me. I’m sure you would have had a lot to talk about.”

“What is this Temporal Prime Directive?” Archer asked.

“Something you’ll come up with,” Paris responded. “Well, not the temporal part, that comes later, but the prime directive. It means non-interference with species and cultures who are not warp capable. The temporal bit was added later, when time travel became possible. It about not pre-empting the future or contaminating the timeline.”

“That will be enough, Mr. Paris,” came the command the moment Daniels bustled through the back entrance.

“And you are?” Tom demanded.

“Temporal agent Daniels,” the crewman stated, as if that were an explanation within itself.

“Do you know Captain Braxton?” Paris asked. It had only been three weeks ago the four senior officers on _Voyager_ had been trapped in 1996. Thankfully, Archer, Tucker and T’Pol were too interested in the conversation to interrupt. They seemed to be following without problems, which meant they knew about Daniels.

“About two hundred years too early,” the agent responded with a smile.

“You’re from the thirty first?” Astounded, Tom finally slumped into his vacant chair. “If the Doc’s mobile emitter is anything to go by, then you can get me home?”

“Yes,” Daniels frowned, “and no. I’m afraid Captain Braxton went down in the history books for all the wrong reasons. I’m afraid your stuck here until I receive orders. I’m not sure anyone knows how or why you’ve arrived here.”

“I thought this was a holographic simulation,” Tom looked and sounded astounded. “I replicated the uniform to fit in. I even studied my family history and tinkered with the program so it could post me onboard. All I wanted to do was fly the NX-01.”

“Just what time do you come from?” Archer understood more than he wanted. A million questions peppered his mind, especially with regard to the Paris family, and a particular Captain.

“Two hundred and twenty-two years in your future,” Paris responded in a shaky voice.

“I have to report this,” Daniels stated, fiddling with a watch like device on his wrist. “There may be a reason you returned to this time period. Until then, I suggest you try to fit in, Mr. Paris. Captain, try not to ask too many questions. Mr. Paris’s knowledge could change the timeline.”

“Who’s B’Elanna?” Archer asked the moment Daniels left. He’d decided to stay away from technology and, to Paris as least, history. That left getting to know the Lieutenant.

“Our half Klingon Chief Engineer,” Tom replied rather sullenly, attempting to get back to the amazing bowl of now cool tomato soup and glass of real wine.

“Klingon,” Trip shouted. They’d had a couple of close calls with that species. “What’s the other half.”

“Human,” Tom responded, realising anything he said at this point was contaminating the time line. “And she’s not the only hybrid species in my time. You know, it’s strange, being on a ship with only one Vulcan. Over half _Voyager’s_ crew is from other worlds in the Federation.”

“You have not meet Dr Phlox,” T’Pol spoke in a monotone, but Tom Paris had the distinct impression she was joking. 


End file.
